


He Doesn’t See Me

by Aurae



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Incompatible Sexual Orientations, M/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pining Exchange 2019, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-07-30 15:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20099602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurae/pseuds/Aurae
Summary: Why did he wait? Perhaps it was the old-fashioned romantic in him, the little lost boy who fell asleep each night to his Aunt Beru’s bedtime stories. Maybe, somewhere deep down in his heart of hearts, he wanted to be swept off his feet, to be carried away and taken in passion. Maybe he wanted to be rescued from this abiding loneliness. Maybe he wanted to be the blushing, vulnerable, yielding object of another man’s love.





	He Doesn’t See Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Penknife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/gifts).

It’s not that Luke Skywalker doesn’t _like_ women. No, that’s not it at all. He admires women; he thinks they’re beautiful. Some he even loves.

It’s just that isn’t attracted to any of them. Never has been. He’s known for as long as he can remember that his desires trend in a decidedly different—and decidedly _masculine_—direction.

Attraction, that animal instinct that only wants to be closer, closer, _closer_, is that essential ingredient. Without it, falling in love is impossible. With it, though?

With it, Luke has a distinct and lamentable tendency to lose his heart. Even when he doesn’t want to. Even when he knows he will never, ever be desired in return.

***

_Han Solo looked disreputable. He looked like he couldn’t be trusted. Luke knew what his eyes were telling him from the very first moment he met Han in that awful Mos Eisley cantina._

_But Han was also confident in the ways of the world, and he exuded raw sex appeal._

_Luke wasn’t the type to fall head over heels for just any guy who happened to swivel his hips seductively in Luke’s direction. Luke prided himself on being a bit more discerning than that. He’d been burned before. He knew when to keep his guard up._

_But Han was more than met the eye. He was brave, as it turned out, and loyal. He played a decisive role in the Rebels’ victory at Yavin._

_Luke’s guard began to lower._

***

His own body is familiar to him, none more familiar in all the galaxy. There is comfort to be had in familiarity.

He’s already removed his shirt before climbing into his bunk. Then he lifts his hips from the mattress and shimmies his pants down to his knees. He smiles, pausing for a moment to savor the feel of the air on his bare genitals.

He’s alone in the barracks, but he closes the curtain over his bunk for a measure of privacy anyway. While it’s true that none of the other pilots begrudge such little indulgences, some might be inclined to join him…especially if he asked. (He does not ask.)

With a soft sigh, he takes himself to hand.

***

_They were spending a lot of time together. There was always more work, a new mission for the Rebel Alliance. Han kept on saying that he meant to leave any day—yeah, ya heard me right, I said any day now!—but he never did._

_Luke, who’d lost so much when the Empire came to Tatooine, got used to the idea that Han would always be there for him._

_Han did nothing to disabuse Luke of this notion. Never mind his cynical pose and sarcastic tongue. He was a loyal friend, easy and open with his affections. Actually, he was the best friend Luke had ever had._

_Was it any surprise that Luke was falling desperately in love?_

***

He likes to start slow. A subtle, delicate touch is best. The prosthesis took some getting used to at first, but by now he thinks he’s about mastered it—practice makes perfect, as they say!

He uses the pad of his thumb and forefinger to tease the foreskin, playing with the crinkled lip and rolling it down to rub the frenulum on the underside, rolling it back up to stretch it over the fast-swelling glans and pinch it shut.

With his other hand, he caresses his chest, exploring its planes, its scattering of hair, its pebbled nipples, the dip of the navel…

…and he imagines these are not his own hands which touch him.

***

_Luke waited. And yearned. And lived always and ever in hope. He wanted Han to make the first move._

_Why did he wait? Perhaps it was the old-fashioned romantic in him, the little lost boy who fell asleep each night to his Aunt Beru’s bedtime stories. Maybe, somewhere deep down in his heart of hearts, he wanted to be swept off his feet, to be carried away and taken in passion. Maybe he wanted to be rescued from this abiding loneliness. Maybe he wanted to be the blushing, vulnerable, yielding object of another man’s love._

_Yet Han, always so brash, always so brave, never made the first move._

_And as for Luke? Luke supposed he feared being made vulnerable as much as he simultaneously craved it._

***

Luke moans with pleasure.

He is stroking himself in earnest now, a firm grip and a steady rhythm. He pauses occasionally to cup and fondle his scrotum, feeling the tightness and how it has lifted to expose what is normally hidden behind.

He presses into his perineum and shudders at the bolt of sweetness which lances through him. He’s never dared explore further, but he wants to. (No, truth is, he wants someone else to.)

He returns his attentions to his erection, throbbing, jerking in his grasp, and his hips began to roll, to undulate, like he lies with a lover and not alone, and the muscles of his limbs tense—he is milliseconds from coming—

***

_Time passed, and neither of them did anything. In the end, Luke had to broach the subject with Han himself._

_Han was confident in the ways of the world, and he exuded raw sex appeal. Of course he’d been in this situation before. Of course he’d had pretty boys making pretty, pining eyes at him before._

_He’d turned them all down. He wasn’t, as they say, a man’s man. He loved Luke—he would dare anyone to assert otherwise!—but not like that. Not that way._

_He was sorry, he said, and he kept right on apologizing as Luke made his most awkward excuses and fled the scene to lick his new wounds._

_Why oh why did love have to hurt?_

***

He squeezes his eyes shut and tosses his head, hot tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he spills his semen onto his heaving belly. Each pulse is long and strong, almost hard enough to hurt, and he covers his mouth with the crook of his arm—

“Han!” Luke cries, the sound stifled by Luke’s own flesh. “Oh fuck, Han, _fuck_, I—”

But he can’t. He can’t have Han…because Han loves Luke, but Han will never love Luke _this way_. He isn’t attracted to him; he doesn’t desire him.

Luke knows that. He. Knows. That. Still, as the last weak dribbles of his ejaculation subside and he has been well and truly emptied, he can’t help but wish with all his heart that things were different.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to the exchange on August 4, 2019.


End file.
